


Thicker Than

by threeguesses



Category: Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/F, period sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeguesses/pseuds/threeguesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't a big deal, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Alicia/Kalinda, period sex. I... have no excuse for this. AND ALSO NO SHAME.

Alicia-without-makeup is pale and sharp. New. No colours or contours and eyebrows standing out like they never have before, immaculate when everything else is casual. She looks like an advertisement for soap or moisturizer, ‘natural essence of’. Her hair is just beginning to curl.

“Good morning.”

“Hi.” If Kalinda tilts her head, she can imagine what Alicia looked like in high school. In college. Briefly, she empathises with Will.

It’s not a big deal, really. They’ve done this. She knows Alicia washes her face before bed – sometimes, at the apartment, she slips away during the afterglow and comes back tasting of menthol. It’s just… Kalinda’s never _seen_ it. This is the first night that’s involved a morning, direct lighting, Alicia’s bedhead. Any of it.

“One sec,” she says.

Her own makeup’s a mess. She stalls, scrubbing at it with the hotel soap, watching herself in the mirror. She still looks the same.

(But. She knows things now. Like how Alicia snores, just a bit; how she’s the last one getting over the office cold. How she re-infected herself two weeks ago, on the couch in the living room, even though Kalinda was stuffy and wearing scarves inside. Careful, tipping Kalinda’s head up and everything tasting like Halls and Kalinda _knows_ all these things, all these useless facts that mean she smiles when Alicia breathes heavily in her sleep. She knows way too much.)

“Kalinda?”

Shit. She dries off on one of the complimentary towels; when she’s done her face is clean and blank again, a magic trick for the ages.

“Um,” Alicia starts. Runs a finger up and down the cheap door-trim. She’s blushing more than Kalinda thought she would be, given the circumstances. “Do you have a—?”

Ah. That. Kalinda lets out the breath she wasn’t holding, slips by to rifle through her purse. The inner organizer is lighter than normal – she’s stopped carrying condoms in it. She always stops, after a while with a girl. (Except, this time, it hasn’t been a while. This time they’re new and the sex is still awkward and really, Kalinda should still be shopping around.

She isn’t.)

“Thanks,” Alicia mutters. The wrapper crinkles in her fist. Without makeup, the blush spreads uninterrupted across her nose and cheeks, slides slowly down her throat. All that blood; Kalinda wants to touch. Instead she stands aside, lets Alicia shuffle into the bathroom.

Lots of firsts. Like ripping off a band-aid.

She’s back in bed by the time Alicia shuffles out again (still blushing, a towel wrapped around her hips). She thought about it, but— no. Her clothes are everywhere and it’s so early, barely five a.m. It’s a Saturday morning and a midrange hotel and there’s room service. Coffee. Maybe even pancakes.

(Also – there’s Alicia.)

“Well.” Alicia bites her lip; it turns pink where her teeth catch, pale after she lets go. “ _That_ pair of underwear is ruined.”

Yeah, Kalinda decides, coffee can happen later. She needs to see that blood-rush to Alicia’s lips again. Preferably now. Preferably elicited by her. “I like you better without.”

Alicia snorts. She hesitates by the edge of the bed for a moment, finally slipping in next to Kalinda. The death-grip she has on the towel is equal parts endearing and frustrating.

“Um,” she says hesitantly. “I don’t think I got any on the sheets—”

“Mm-hmm.” Kalinda leans down to taste her lip – Alicia squeaks – and yes, it works just as well when someone else is doing the biting. She licks at the red as it fades. “Don’t care.”

(She does, actually. She wants Alicia to get it on the sheets.)

“Okay,” Alicia breathes. Her blush is spreading interesting places, down past the lace of her camisole. “Sorry, it’s just, it came early and…”

“Uh-huh, _really_ don’t care. Promise.” Kalinda presses teeth down and _in_ , one-mississippi, two-mississippi, three; pulls back to see the results. “Well,” she amends after a moment, nose behind Alicia’s ear, “I am pleased that I didn’t get you pregnant.”

Alicia huffs a laugh and turns her chin sideways; their kisses taste like toothpaste. Kalinda bites her tongue – just lightly, just crimping the edges – gets a hand underneath the towel while Alicia’s distracted.

“Kalinda.” Right up close, so she can taste the warning.

“What?” She rubs the crease of Alicia’s thigh until it opens for her; a little bit, then a little bit more. “You think it’s anything I haven’t seen before?”

“It’s unsanitary.” Alicia shifts; the towel falls off one of her hips. Her face is stern, but there’s a tremble in her legs that suggests she’s open to persuasion. “Ka- _lin_ -da.”

Kalinda smirks; three-syllables means go. She runs a hand down Alicia’s calf and back up, hits the spot that makes Alicia’s legs fall open. There’s stubble and that’s new too; three weeks, and Alicia must have shaved fresh for her every time.

“God.” Alicia covers her face, which _definitely_ means go. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about it,” Kalinda says. Alicia’s wet; proper wet that isn’t blood. What Kalinda really wants to do is pull the tampon out, but it’s probably still dry and that would hurt. Also: Alicia would freak. She settles for sliding a finger partway inside, tapping on the end.

“Ok-ay,” Alicia stutters. “Um. You can just stick to…”

“Non-penetrative activities?”

“Yeah.” Alicia settles back against the pillows. “Wait— _Kalinda_!”

Kalinda smirks. “Problem?” She presses a kiss to Alicia’s abdomen. “This is non-penetrative.”

“Not—” Alicia shudders as Kalinda bites along the line of her pubic hair. Her skin tastes like sleep, the new-detergent smell of the towel. “Not what I meant.”

“You should be more specific,” Kalinda tells her.

“I’m being specif— _Oh_.”

For a while, Kalinda does what she’s told. Alicia’s slick and swollen, more tender than normal – she jumps every time Kalinda touches her clit. So Kalinda goes slowly; lots of lips and tongue, no teeth. Open-mouthed kisses. Licking. Alicia squirms the whole time, pushing up against Kalinda’s mouth, then pressing back. Her legs and hands are restless, and it’s obvious this isn’t working. Kalinda lifts her head.

“Okay.” She smooths a hand across Alicia’s stomach. “We’re going to try something else for a bit.”

“I really don’t think—”

Kalinda makes a shushing sound. She uses her thumbs to spread Alicia open gently, carefully. Alicia’s pinker than normal too, almost shockingly dark against those pale, pale thighs. She fidgets under the scrutiny.

“Kalinda, I—”

Kalinda licks her. Gets her tongue right up against the string and pushes.

Alicia squeaks.

 _Bingo_.

Kalinda goes faster this time, less finesse. Alicia tastes different, sharper- Kalinda can’t help it. It’s wet and hot and dirty and she can’t help it, wants to bite down, wants to tie Alicia to the bed and keep her here forever. Wants it like something terminal, incurable, so the doctors will open up and say nope, nothing we can do here. Wants it and doesn’t understand why.

What she knows: she needs to see Alicia come. Now.

Her chin gets slippery, messy, and she all but abandons technique; no tonguing the alphabet, no clever little flourishes. Apparently it’s the way to go; Alicia lifts her hips, shoves a demanding hand into Kalinda’s hair. Kalinda lets her. Lets her pull and buck and doesn’t complain when it hurts.

Finally, when Alicia’s gasping for it, distracted, Kalinda snaps at the string with her teeth. She pulls a little, just gently, just so Alicia can feel it. She thinks, _mine_.

“God, _Kalinda_ —”

Kalinda smirks, pressing in close with her face and tongue, riding out the clenching. When she shifts up on her elbows to check, Alicia’s panting, stunned. She’s awash with colour now, nose and cheeks flushed pink, lips bitten red. Still a soap advertisement maybe, but a suggestive one. To be aired after ten p.m. only.

Alicia props herself up on the pillows. “Um, you’ve got…”

Kalinda wipes her mouth. There’s a little bit of blood. Not much. She wants to lick her fingers, but Alicia’s watching with Bambi-wide eyes. She smears them on the sheets, twin lines of war-paint.

“Sorry,” Alicia winces. Kalinda rolls her eyes.

“I’m not.” She leans in for a kiss then thinks better of it, imagining the word unsanitary in Alicia’s prim courtroom tones. She unlocks her elbows and goes dead-weight instead, deliberately making it harder for Alicia to catch her breath. Nearly every part of them is touching.

Alicia slides a hand up her back, face registering surprise. They don’t really do post-sex cuddling. They don’t really do post-sex anything. Kalinda tucks her face away in Alicia’s neck so she doesn’t have to answer any questions.

“You’re not grossed out?” Alicia asks finally.

Kalinda licks her carotid artery. “Really, really not.”


End file.
